


slow dance with our desires

by winluvr



Series: THIS IS OUR NEW RELIGION. [8]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel/Demon Relationship, Implied/Referenced Sexual Content, Introspection, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:27:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27718823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winluvr/pseuds/winluvr
Summary: It’s a dance with desire, their feet moving in agonizingly slow synchronization, their bodies flitting past and leaning into each other like a waltz. The angel knows better, but he has his own worldly desires.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Kita Shinsuke
Series: THIS IS OUR NEW RELIGION. [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966375
Kudos: 13





	slow dance with our desires

**Author's Note:**

> the atsukita version of [my sakuatsu fic of the same premise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27000910)

**“Desire is a flame that burns us, causes suffering** **and keeps us tied to the cycle of death and rebirth.”**

“Shin-chan,” Atsumu whispers, his mouth barely hovering over Shinsuke's parted lips, his breath warm against the slant of his mouth. They’re kissing, almost, if only Shinsuke would finally close the distance between them. It’s a dance with desire, their feet moving in agonizingly slow synchronization, their bodies flitting past and leaning into each other like a waltz. The angel knows better, but he has his own worldly desires.

Atsumu knows better than this. He knows better than to question the Lord’s will for him. And yet, when he looks at the demon standing in front of him, with his coal-black wings spreading behind him like a second pair of arms and with his dark, unreadable stare burning into every inch of Atsumu’s body, it almost feels like he has never known any better. It almost feels like this was what the Lord has set out for him. An angel could only be looked at for so long before giving in.

“Kiss me,” Atsumu says, his fingers already tugging against the collar of Shinsuke's dress shirt until the other cranes his neck down to look at him. Atsumu’s wings, white as pearls, the tips the palest pink of seashells and corals, free of the sins of his parents, flutter behind him excitedly, like an eagle moving at its own accord. It almost mirrors the butterflies in the pit of his stomach, swirling with delight and clenching with a delirious desire for the other. “Kiss me, Shin-chan, even if it’s just for tonight.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” And there he goes. Atsumu can never take his eyes off of him. He watches the way his golden eyes darken until it’s almost as black as pitch, the white light from the ceiling fading away from his eyes just as fast as he walks into Atsumu’s life, sets fire to everything like a serial arsonist and leaves him to burrow in the flames of its aftermath. But Shinsuke knows Atsumu loves the tormenting ache that comes with wanting someone you cannot lie down with. But Shinsuke knows Atsumu loves the warmth it gives him, albeit temporary, albeit fleeting, albeit a passing fling they’ll forget.

Atsumu has never been touched like this, not even when he had still been human. Like this, like they’re actually trying to make him feel _good_ , and not just for a quick fuck behind the eyes of a million spectators. There had been a lot of them, far too many to count, several boys and girls uncatalogued and uncategorized in the back of his mind, like none of them had been important to him. Face down against the pillow, he could barely remember any of their faces, any of the names that he had screamed. They had tried so hard to fill up the huge, gaping hole in the middle of his chest, but it had never been enough. None of them would ever make it enough, not even the ones who had the best mouths or the best hands.

In his past life, Atsumu had been a giver. He would let all of his former lovers take and take away from him until he had been stripped to the bone, naked to the core. His former lovers would take and take away from him until he had been scrubbed raw, his flesh coarse and pink under the glaring lights, placed under the leering eye of a microscope for the whole world to see. In his past life, his lovers would take and he would never know how to stop giving until he was empty.

All Atsumu knew about giving was that it would make them stay. But they never did. Atsumu was always left wondering why. Maybe he had given too much, maybe he had watered their blossoming romance for too long rather than letting the leaves filter out. Maybe the lens had smudged, stained with sweat and ink, and they didn’t want to see him anymore. A man could only have so many lovers before growing tired.

Maybe he kissed too hard and said too little to them. But he knows it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter, even if he were to come back to earth as a reincarnated version of his past self, reworked and rebranded into something better than he used to be, something new for other people to get used to. It would feel strange, _different,_ if he would be touched the way he used to want in this life. But in this life, the angel would have never expected that he would be on the receiving end. 

Shinsuke's touch is enough to send the whole world into a state of calamity. He touches Atsumu like he knows him, like he knows him inside out, from the core of his stomach to the swell of his chest against the heavenly white robes. Shinsuke knows his touch is enough to set the angel’s senses on fire, so he takes his precious time and watches him writhe in the agony that his body is allowing him to feel, all for his desire.

Desire is not a bad thing, not to the angel. There had been blue-hot stars pirouetting under his eyelids as the demon’s hands travelled further and further down to palm him over his robes. Desire is not a bad thing. Atsumu tries to cup the demon’s face with his hands, kissing him harder and harder until it felt like both of their mouths are going to fall off. But in that moment, it almost felt tender, their mouths moving in a constant state of communion. It almost felt like they could have been lovers in a past life, looking at one another in this one, kissing in the backseat in another, married in the last.

Desire is steering the demon away from his own faith and he is now standing at half mast as the demon slips his hands into the front of his pants, tugging down at his belt loops until he was so sure they would come off at the sides. It’s letting his masochistic body relish in the sensations that Shinsuke's hands were making him feel, the kisses that Shinsuke's mouth was giving him. Desire is enabling the angel to lean into the demon’s touch, his body moving on its autonomy, like it was getting a kick out of the agony he was in. He was delirious, burning in the red-hot flames of Shinsuke's heavenly touch, the little brushes and soft prods sending him to hysterics. 

In spite of the sacrilege of it all, the hell-hound basks in the flaxen-haired angel's attention, hankering for more. Shinsuke tormented him even more, playing with the fire that’s burning within Atsumu's body that flickered with red tongues of flame like he had been doused with gasoline. The angel allows him to scrape his body free of wounds and marks, to pull apart the strings of his being. Stretch him until he’s pulled taut, a tightly drawn rope, all of his nerves settling into each other.

Shinsuke's kisses felt like cold water washing over the angel, like little droplets of water leaking down onto his skin, then enveloping his body all at once. His kisses felt like hot baths after a night shift that felt like it would go on forever, felt like something to settle his feet in and reside, something to feel comfortable in. Like old leather shoes with the soles broken in. Like something so familiar and yet so distuinguishably new. Shinsuke's kisses felt like the first sip of clean, cold water after spending forty days and forty nights walking through a desert. His kisses felt like rebirth, as though his body had whittled away through the centuries and had to be reborn, as though the demon had been turning him into something new. 

Shinsuke's kisses feel like how the angel had imagined hell freezing over to feel like. And god, the angel would never admit it, could never tell him about it, but he was driving Atsumu crazy with the way he sent him to hell as he took his time running his hands all over the sides of Atsumu’s body, his touches lingering for longer than you would touch the enemy, then drove him all the way to heaven afterwards, an offering to the gods placed on an altar, his body flitting past all the wispy clouds and all the blue skies in the world until he was back to his heavenly core, back to the genesis of his own existence. He flew past everything and nothing at once.

Atsumu watches as the demon’s long black tail unfurls itself, curling behind him, standing heavenward in full attention like a coil unwinding itself until the angel is left in the dust, mouth hanging open like he is witnessing the second coming of the Lord. It’s an act of concupiscence and they both know it. It’s a sin that no white-winged, golden-haired angel would ever think of committing, a blessing that no black-tailed, red-eyed demon would ever think of beholding. They know better than this and yet, it’s so easy to give in to your heart’s desires.

The concupiscent angel knows better than to give in to the temptation that is standing right in front of him and yet there he is, moving closer and closer until his lips finally seal the distance with Shinsuke's. An ocean of pink against his own. Soft, supple and tender, everything that he always expected the demon’s lips to feel like, but it still took him by surprise, like ocean waves suddenly coming in and flooding over a perpetually arid desert. His hands are moving on their own, reaching up to cup Shinsuke's cheeks gently, weakly, intently.

This was another one of those fleeting moments where the angel’s body was moving out of his control, out of his will, moving faster than his mind could think. And in spite of that, in spite of everything that he has warned himself about, in spite of everything he stands for, he was doing nothing to fight it. He was doing nothing to uphold his own morals in a battle against the demon. His body melts in Shinsuke's grasp. The demon tastes so good against his lips that the angel is ready to commit bloodshed. He kisses him so good that the angel, in a treasonous half-second musing, feels like he is ready to go down on his knees and descend all the way to hell. If only for a second glance, if only for another moment.

The parched deer laps up affection from the waterfall that is the demon’s soft, plump lips, his hands reaching up to rake his fingers across the course of his silver hair. His lips feel warm against Atsumu's cold ones. The sensation is like sin mixing in perfectly with good in a tempting cocktail Atsumu couldn't help but take a sip from. It’s all too much to handle. Atsumu's eyelids feel heavy under Shinsuke's overpowering gaze and he lets the lion dominate him and steer the wheel.

Once Atsumu opens his eyes once more to look at Shinsuke, the demon’s eyes glitter at the way the angel is so ready to submit to him. Shinsuke is a lion amongst men, ever so ready to attack his willing prey and ever so ready to command his lowly subordinates into succumbing to his will. And to him, Atsumu is nothing but a little weak-willed angel whom he could twist around his little fingers and command to his own desires. An angel, a follower who would give in so easily to the desperate murmurs of his treacherous subconscious. 

Shinsuke leaves little, butterfly kisses that barely grazes the skin of Atsumu's neck, shyer and shyer still, but is enough to leave him writhing in Shinsuke's grip, asking, no, hankering for more. “Please,” the angel says, his mind delirious enough to beg for the enemy's kiss, “Shin-chan, kiss me. I want ya to fuck me.” He wraps his shaking hands around Shinsuke's waist, his fingers tugging against the fabric of his pants. He’s touching him, he’s really touching him. His fingers are turning black now, marred with the hallmarks of his desire, but he couldn’t bother to take his fingers off. It’s almost like he relished in the sweat and filth. Atsumu looks up at him through his eyelashes, a gesture so alluring that Shinsuke simply couldn’t find the heart to say no.

The angel’s needy, fervent hands graze over the planes of Shinsuke's back. He is searching, reaching out for more. His breath feels warm, like white-hot flames against the demon’s skin. His movements remain characteristically gentle and yet so feverish, and yet so needy, something the demon never expected from the angel in front of him, and yet also spirited and so hell-driven. _Oh heavens, have mercy on my soul,_ the angel thinks before pulling the demon closer, his fingers tugging at the buttons of his dress shirt until they come undone. _The Lord is a forgiving God. He will forgive me. He will forgive us. He will. He will._

That night, against the white sheets of the angel’s futon, the willing prey submits to his own devilish desires, unblocking his once-deafened ears to the wails of the siren. He listens in on his desperate moans as he bucks his hips against him. He strains his ears to listen and cranes his neck to watch him, his body tingling with wanting. He writhes under the demon, basking in the sounds of pleasure, the melodies of delight that comes from his mouth. It makes him ache in a way he has never felt before, not in any of his past lives. 

As the demon moves against him, the pitiful deer falls prey to the ghastly wails of the temptation that towers over him, manifesting itself, materializing itself from thin air into an equally compliant raven-haired demon. That night, when no one is around to listen, when no one is around to eavesdrop on them, white-walled ice mixes with black-tongued fire in a melancholy, sadistic twist of desire. A sin, a blessing in one.


End file.
